


A Crisismas Carol

by CastleAndMurdock



Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bisexual Dennis, Bisexual Male Character, Blasphemy, Blood, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cats, Child Neglect, Christmas, Christmas Crack, Christmas Eve, Christmas Special, Comedy, Crack, Crossover, Dark Comedy, Dick Jokes, Drugs, Explicit Language, F/M, Feelings, Feels, Fluff, Gay, Gay Mac, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, I would die for Dee Reynolds, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mac is gay, Minor Canonical Character(s), Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Religion, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sexism, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Humor, Surprise Character Appearances, Violence, feels trip, jesus christ - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastleAndMurdock/pseuds/CastleAndMurdock
Summary: The Christmas season is upon us, but the gang just isn't really feeling it this year. On Christmas Eve, each member of the gang is getting ready for bed, but before the sun can rise on Christmas morning, each of them will be confronted by spirits of their past, their present, and their future. And boy are they pissed. Will the gang be able to make it through the night? Will it be a Merry Christmas at Paddy's after all? Or is it destined to be another Crisismas?





	1. DEE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Santsi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santsi/gifts).



"Those stupid dicks." Dee mumbled, as she closed her apartment door behind her. She tossed her keys somewhere on her coffee table as she walked towards her bathroom to get cleaned up. The rest of the gang had thought it would be funny to throw water balloons at her earlier in the work day. Except, the balloons were filled with neon yellow paint instead of water and once she was covered in it, they started screaming at her and laughing, ' _BIG BIRD! BIG BIRD!'_ Dee turned on the shower and turned to look into the mirror above the sink. She huffed in anger as she picked at the dried paint around her eyes. It was all in her hair and she felt like a total garbage fire.

"I'll show you Big Bird, you brainless assholes." Dee grumbled as she scrubbed at her face. She quickly undressed and got into the shower, letting the warm water wash away her problems. It was almost midnight once she got out and dried off. She had to close the bar, even while covered in paint. But thankfully Paddy's closed early on Christmas Eve. She plopped down on her couch, barely covering up with a blanket, she was too tired to pick the rest of it off the ground when it slipped down. She sighed loudly, hoping that someone would hear her, maybe break down her door and save her. She was tired, tired of the gang, tired of the bar, tired of all of it. She yawned as the TV in front of her played an old black and white movie, something about Christmas and families and bullshit not included in her rotten life. She mentally added Christmas to the list of things she was very, very tired of. She knew that tomorrow would suck, that the gang would forget about her, that her stupid old step-dad would fake her out again with presents. Her mom was dead, and she didn't give a solid fuck about where Bruce was. Fuck Christmas. Fuck it up it's jolly old ass. Her eyes fluttered closed as the grayscale people on TV were happily hugged around a Christmas tree. Dee Reynolds just couldn't relate.

"Hey." a voice suddenly said. Dee opened her eyes, it felt like she had only blinked. At first, she thought the voice had come from the TV, but it was gross sounding, nasally, all too familiar. Dee screamed and fell off the couch as she looked up at the face of her Garbage Pail Cousin.

"Gail!? How did you get in here?" Dee howled, tangled up in the blanket. She struggled out of it and threw it at Gail.

"I'm-" She paused as she made a gross noise with her nose. "The Ghost of the Past, or something." Dee looked up at her cousin in confused disgust.

"You're what?" Dee asked, bewildered.

"I'm supposta show you Christmas shit." She nodded her head toward the door. "Come on." She motioned for Dee to follow her. Dee shook her head, trying to wake herself up, but she was nearly convinced that she was awake. Dee stood up and followed the Snail to the door. Gail opened it, the hallway of her apartment building was no longer there, but the door opened up into something else. They stepped through the doorway and emerged in the Reynolds living room. Except, it was at _least_ thirty years ago. Dee saw her mother, sitting in an armchair beside the tallest Christmas tree in Philadelphia. She was ignoring everyone, too busy focusing on the glass of scotch in her hand. Frank was running around with a video camera, filming the two little figures under the tree, tearing into boxes. She saw a tiny Dennis, his grubby little kid hands ripping through wrapping paper. And beside him, was her. Baby Dee, no older than six or seven, happily destroying bows and paper, desperate to get into the present inside. It was the one year that Frank didn't fake them out. The only year that Dee was actually happy on Christmas.

"Oh my god." Dee whispered, watching her happy family. Sure, her mother couldn't give a shit, but she was drunk off her ass, she was happy in her own way.

"Remember that?" Gail slurped. "That was the year the whole family came over, I was there too, but later." she mumbled. Dee frowned, suddenly realizing that she would never have a Christmas that happy ever again. Not with Frank, not with Dennis, and certainly not with her mother. 

"Can we go now?" she asked Gail, who was now drooling, letting her spit slowly drip to the carpet below.

"Why?" she said, spitting the rest of the drool. "Don't you want to see?" Dee shook her head sadly.

"Can they see us?" she asked. Gail shook her head, slinging her spit.

"No. You could do anything you wanted to them, they wouldn't notice." Dee kept a comfortable distance from them, too scared to go any further. Too scared the memory would break. Dee simply stared at them, at herself. She had forgotten how cute Dennis was, before he grew up to be such a creepy asshole. She realized that she still had love for her brother, she missed how things used to be, before he threw paint at her for fun.

"Did you know that I'm sexually active now?" Gail suddenly cut in. "I have a boyfriend now, so..." Dee tore her eyes away from her family and grimaced.

"Ew, Gail no." she snapped. Dee sighed and backed away slowly. "Never mind, just...take me back, I want to wake up now." Gail inhaled sharply from her nose.

"There's still stuff I'm supposed to show you-"

"I don't care, Gail. Take me back!" Gail grabbed at Dee's sleeve and reluctantly dragged her back through the doorway. They were back in Dee's apartment, the Christmas scene was gone forever and Dee shoved her cousin's hand away. "I'm _this_ close to grabbing the salt, you gross bitch. Get out of my _house!_ " Gail shuffled her feet and looked up at Dee.

"So, are you coming by for Christmas, because I want to see Uncle Frank again." she said creepily. Dee winced.

"I thought you said you had a boyfriend, Gail." Gail smiled with all her gross teeth.

"I have lots of them." she admitted. Dee almost gagged.

"Sure okay, bye bitch." Dee said, shoving her back through the open door. Dee slammed it shut and rapidly shook her head, desperate to just wake up from this awful nightmare. As she turned around to go back to the couch a figure stood just behind her. Dee screamed and struggled to find the light switch in the dark room.

"Dee! Dee it's okay!" a voice called out, high-pitched and drug riddled. Dee cringed when her eyes made him out in the dark."It's just me! The Ghost of Christmas Present!"

"Noooo..." Dee whined. "No, Cricket no. Please just let me sleep, you disgusting dick." Cricket hobbled a little closer.

"There's still _so_ much you have to see, Dee!" he said enthusiastically, obviously very high on crack. "Come with me!" Even Dream Cricket's face was half burned off, his eye was rolling around loosely and he was wearing his tattered old priest clothes.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, goddamn it. I'm going back to bed." Dee said, walking towards the couch. Cricket reached out and grabbed her by the wrist.

"Not today!" Cricket said, as he pulled Dee closer. He took her other hand into his and suddenly the room was gone. They were floating above Philadelphia in the nighttime, hand in hand, with the snow falling all around them. Dee could see her breath, but could not feel the cold. She screamed out in panic, scared that she was falling, but she and Cricket stayed in place, hovering above the city. "Isn't beautiful, Dee? A perfect place to raise our kids." Dee almost gagged again.

"We are never having goddamn kids, Cricket." Dee snapped. Cricket sighed and hung his head low in understanding.

"Yeah, I know." he replied solemnly. "Do you wanna go down there?" He pointed at the ground.

"Not with you." she mumbled. Dee looked over at Cricket, staring directly into his dog vagina scar. She shuddered. "Okay fine." she agreed. A smile crept onto Cricket's face as they quickly started to descend to the ground. They landed just outside of Paddy's, the lights inside were dim, and the place looked deserted. Cricket nodded for Dee to go inside, she hesitated but opened the door. The gang was inside, strewn about the place. Mac was sitting at the bar, his upper half splayed over the bar's surface, fast asleep. Dennis was sleeping in one of the booths, his head leaning back against the wall. Charlie was sleeping on one of the pool tables, the eight ball under his head like a pillow. Frank was just sprawled out on the floor, face down. The entire place was still covered in sick, yellow paint where Dee had been pelted with balloons only hours before.

"Look at them." Cricket said. Dee stood in the entryway, confused.

"Yeah, they look dead." she said, about to turn and leave. Cricket took her hand again and stopped her.

"No, they're _sleeping_." Cricket whispered. "They felt bad about hitting you with paint, they were waiting for you to come back." Dee raised an eyebrow.

"Bullshit." she mumbled. "These ass bags wouldn't apologize to me for shit." Cricket shook his head.

"Sure they would." he said. "Christmas is all about forgiveness. And crack, do you have any crack, Dee?" Dee was once again ripped out of what could have been a nice moment, with yet another stupid comment.

"No, I don't have any crack, Cricket." Cricket frowned. "Even if I did, I wouldn't share with you, ass clown."

"Okay, time to leave." he said, pulling her wrist toward the door.

"Wait, no!" Dee said. "They were going to apologize! You said so!" Cricket only pulled harder.

"No crack, no apology." he said as he pulled her halfway out the door. Dee struggled, but life on the streets had given Cricket immense amounts of strength. He ripped her outside, as she was screaming and clawing her way back in. Dee was suddenly falling, down and down into a seemingly endless pit of despair. Cricket was gone, off to find some crack. Maybe Santa brought him some for Christmas. Dee suddenly dropped back down with a jolt. She scrambled around, expecting the worst. But she had landed back on her couch, in her shitty apartment.

"I'm awake!" she screamed up to the ceiling. "I'm goddamn awake!" She nearly kissed the ground, she was so relieved. 

"Don't be so sure, Deandra." Dee's heart sank into her stomach. She turned her head to the right and she screamed in terror. "Ugh, is this how my daughter has been living? It looks like pigs live here, dear."

"Mother?!" Dee howled, scrambling again as she fell off the couch.

"Oh, how very attractive." Barbara said, a martini glass in her hand. She was leaning against the wall, staring out the window like a model past her prime. "Is your brother well?" she asked. Dee stared up, tired and angry and desperate to wake up.

"I don't give a shit about Dennis." Dee said rapidly. "Who gives a shit about Dennis?" Barbara sighed dramatically and looked down into her glass.

"And you wonder why you weren't my favorite child." Dee shook her head, rolling her eyes.

"What do you want mother? You haunted me enough when you were alive, but you have to bitch at me as a ghost too?"

"I am the Ghost of Future's...whatever, dear." Barbara said in a half-drunken slur. "I'm here to show you your future, apparently you actually have one." Barbara walked away from the window and stood in front of Dee. Dee got to her feet, wide-eyed.

"Am I famous?!" Dee asked, grabbing at her mother's shoulders, the contents of the glass spilling down to the floor. "Am I on Broadway?!" Barbara took a step back.

"That's what I'm here to show you, calm down." Barbara said, attempting to save what was left in her glass. "I don't know why I'm even here, actually. They couldn't have gotten someone else?" she sighed and snapped her fingers. Suddenly, Dee was in a completely different place. A lavish mansion, decorated in greys and blues, a beautiful living room with a roaring fireplace, a gigantic Christmas tree in the corner. The mantle of the fireplace was covered in Tony awards, so many in fact, that a shelf was built above it to hold all the rest, the Emmy and the many Oscar statues, all engraved with her name. On the couch, in front of the fire, was Dee, old and warm and happy, a drink in her hand, but it was nearly empty.

"Oh..." Dee gasped, her hand clutching over her heart. A man walked in, with two glasses in his hands. He was young and beautiful and he walked over to Old Dee, he handed her a new glass of wine and kissed the side of her head. Young Dee turned to her mother and slapped hard at her shoulder. "I married Groban!" she screamed. "I married Josh fucking Groban!" Dee nearly dropped to the floor in excitement, tears stinging her eyes. But as Dee was celebrating, Barbara only smiled. Then she laughed. Cruel, dark and evil like a Disney villain.

"Oh, Deandra. I couldn't resist, I'm sorry." Barbara laughed. Dee's smile faded quickly into a look of defeat. Her mother snapped her fingers again and the dream life was now gone, replaced with an apartment even grosser than her own. Dee looked around her, she winced.

"This is Charlie's apartment." Dee said, slowly coming to the realization. "No. No, this isn't right." She looked over at Barbara in panic. Barbara only nodded.

"I'm afraid it's true, dear." she said calmly, taking a drink. "You marry the buffoon." Dee looked over at the window. A different Dee, in the not too distant future, was sitting beside the closed window, her back against Charlie's chest, his arms around her. Snow was falling softly outside, in the cold Philadelphia night. Charlie looked happy, Future Dee looked happy, but Present Dee was at a loss for words.

"This isn't a dream. This is a goddamn nightmare!" she screeched. "I don't marry Charlie, please tell me that I don't marry _Charlie!_ " Dee grabbed at her mother again, taking her roughly by the shoulders as she shook her. The martini glass fell to the floor and shattered, the glass pieces scattered into empty cat food cans and old laundry. "NO! Not him, not him!" The scene started to disappear, Charlie's apartment faded back into Dee's. The hands Dee now had around Barbara's throat were now wrapped tightly around her blanket. She rose up, now fully awake on her living room floor. The sun was streaming in through the windows, all the awful ghosts were gone and Dee breathed a sigh of relief. "Goddamn it." she sighed in exhaustion, hands over her eyes. She slowly got up and immediately started getting ready for work. The bar wouldn't be open for a while, but Dee had a lot of things to take care of at Paddy's. 


	2. MAC

Mac had woken up with his upper half still sprawled on the bar, in a puddle of his own drool, a few hours after Dee had gone home. The rest of the gang had wanted to go home themselves, it _was_ Christmas after all, but Charlie was insistent on staying, to wait around in case Dee came back. Of course she wasn't coming back, she was probably sulking in her apartment with all her weird cats or something. Mac should have been home by now, Jesus would be mad at him if he didn't show up for the holiday services at church, but here he was in Paddy's hours after closing, waiting for the Bird to find her way back to the nest. Mac sat up in the bar stool and wiped his mouth. He sleepily looked over to where Dennis had been sitting in the booth behind him, Mac was going to go wake him up so they could go home, but Dennis wasn't there. Mac sighed deeply, he was used to Dennis ditching him all the time, he wasn't really surprised that he'd pull something like this on Christmas. Mac went over his usual 'Dennis Fucked Me Over Again' mantra in his head, _if God can forgive Dennis, then so can I_. What Mac didn't know is, is that God was already fed up to fuck with Dennis Reynolds, he had left him in Satan's hands a long time ago. But truth be told, Satan didn't really want him either, he was too much trouble. Mac stood up, ignoring Frank and Charlie, still asleep in their own places. He walked to the door, stepping over streaks of dried yellow paint, as he grabbed his coat and left the bar.

"Thanks, Dennis." he mumbled, cold wind pelting bits of falling snow in his face as he walked home. It took a little longer than usual, but Mac eventually got back home. He went up to the apartment he shared with Dennis, but Dennis wasn't there either. Mac slammed the door, not caring if it pissed off the neighbors, they were probably out cold in drunken Christmas dreams anyway. He threw his damp, snow covered coat to the floor as he tried to warm back up. The crucifix around his neck was freezing to his chest, and Mac had to pull it out and wear it over his shirt to keep it from stinging him with cold. If Mac had been in a better mood, he would have taken that as a bad sign, a sign that he might be possessed or something. But Mac was far too furious with Dennis to notice. They had driven to the bar that morning in the Range Rover, which meant Dennis had purposely driven off at some point without him. How was Mac supposed to get back home? Did Dennis ever consider that? Mac sighed as he went to his room, got changed and jumped into bed with a huff. He had only just closed his eyes when he heard it. Shuffling sounds against the floor, like someone was nervously shuffling their feet. Mac opened his eyes and jolted fully awake. He stuttered his words as he scrambled out of bed.

"Pete!? What the fuck man? Don't cannibal murder me, don't cannibal murder me!" Mac screamed out as he stumbled backwards onto the floor.

"H-hi, Mac." Pete, the former psycho said. "Merry Christmas..." Mac looked up from behind the bed, absentmindedly grabbing at his necklace for protection.

"What do you want? How did you get in here?" Mac gasped dramatically. " _Did you kill Dennis!?"_

"No..." Pete said quietly. "I haven't seen him... Listen, I have to show you some stuff. Uh, yeah." Mac stood up slowly, cautiously taking a step towards him.

"Am _I_ dead?" Mac asked, wide-eyed. Pete shook his head.

"No, I don't think so..." Pete walked over to the door. He opened it and ducked under the door frame as he stepped through. Mac inched closer to the open door and jumped back when he saw the other side. It wasn't his apartment anymore, the other side of the door was bright and white light streamed out.

"Oh, fuck. I _am_ dead." Mac dropped down to his knees and clasped his hands together in prayer. "Dear God," he began, looking up at the ceiling. "I have never done anything wrong, ever, in my entire life. I've got like, no sins, man, I'm good." Two strong hands reached out and pulled Mac through the doorway. Mac, assuming it was God, finally bringing his sinful ass home, closed his eyes and let God take him. But after a few seconds passed, Mac opened his eyes again, only to find that he wasn't cradled in God's arms, but in Pete's. Mac screamed out like a little girl and stumbled out of Pete's arms.

"Yeah, so..." Pete said sheepishly, and pointed to the left. "That's what you needed to see." Mac stopped freaking out and looked towards the direction Pete was pointing at.

It was bright and early on Christmas morning, the warm sun was out but Philadelphia was frozen over in piles of snow. Mac and Pete stood just a few yards away from the train tracks, where two little figures stood, their tiny hands and pockets full of rocks.

"Is that me?!" Mac asked, his voice full of childish wonders as he pointed at the two kids. Pete nodded slowly. Baby Mac reached into his pocket and pulled out some more rocks when he heard the train coming. Next to him, Baby Charlie, much smaller than his friend, raised up both arms as the train barreled down the tracks. As it started to pass, both boys flung the rocks as hard as they could into the sides of the cars. They kept throwing the rocks until their pockets were empty, laughing and shouting all the curse words they knew as they tossed things at the train. Present Mac couldn't wipe the smile off of his face if he tried. He wanted to run up to both boys and hug them. Fuck stranger danger, right? He'd never get another chance to see this. Sure, he and Charlie still tossed rocks at trains every year, but _look how cute they were_ back then. "How is this possible?" Mac asked, still watching the past versions of himself and his best friend.

"I'm just supposed to show you the past, I don't really know how it works..." Pete said, wringing his hands together. "I think we have to go now." Mac glanced over at Pete and then back to the kids.

"But, I don't want to go." Mac said, as Pete gently grabbed his upper arm. Pete started to drag him back, but Mac started to struggle again. He chopped at Pete with his karate moves, kicking wildly when Pete finally picked up him and cradled him again like a child. Mac started screaming and chopping at Pete's neck, but Pete simply tossed him through the doorway and the door slammed shut, leaving Mac on one side and Pete on the other. Mac beat his fists at the door, but it faded away under his hands until the door disappeared entirely. Mac looked around at the tiny room he was in. Mac had landed in a jail cell, there was a small bed in one corner and a gross toilet in the other, the entire far wall behind him was made up of bars. Mac ran over to them and struggled to get the door open, but it was of no use.

"Huh," a voice behind him said, dull and bored and loaded with sarcasm. "You think I would have tried that." Mac whipped around to the voice, making a karate pose in his defense. Mac's eyes lit up and a smile stretched across his entire face. He tried to scream out in joy, but couldn't form the sound, he could only manage one word. 

"Dad!" Mac screamed, as he ran over to him and pulled him in for an incredibly tight hug. Luther sighed in his son's arms, letting him get his excitement out before pushing him away.

"Hello son." he mumbled, as Mac stumbled back from the push.

"I missed you!" Mac announced, nearly jumping up and down.

"That's nice." Luther said sarcastically. "Listen, I have to go soon, so let's just get this whole, Ghost of Present...whatever thing over with, all right?" Mac's eyes went wide.

"Where are we going, dad?!" Mac asked, going in for another hug, which Luther was quick to deny.

"You'll see." he said without expression. The jail cell suddenly faded away into falling snow, and now Mac and Luther stood outside of Paddy's. It was only minutes after Mac had left to go home earlier in the evening. The wind had died down, but the snow was still relentlessly pelting down from the sky. Mac shivered even though he couldn't feel the cold, wrapping his arms around himself protectively. Headlights could be seen coming up the road and the Range Rover pulled into its usual parking space in front of the bar. A tired looking Dennis stepped out and quickly went inside the building, obviously feeling the chill in the air. Mac frowned and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What the fuck is this shit?" Mac asked, annoyed. Luther stayed silent, wishing he was in Mexico right now instead of listening to his asshole child. Dennis was only inside for a few minutes, but when he came back outside, he looked worried. He put his hands around his mouth and started to call out, " _MAC! MAC?"_ Dennis walked over to the corner, just past where Mac was standing, but Dennis couldn't see him. Dennis looked up and down the streets in search of his best friend, but came up short. Mac watched as Dream Dennis reluctantly went back to the Range Rover and drove away.

"See." Luther said. Mac's eyes had been following the Rover as Dennis drove off and he snapped his attention back to his dad.

"What do you mean?" Mac asked. Luther sighed in frustration, his idiot kid just wasn't getting it. His eyes went wide with murder. 

"That creepy little fucker was looking for you." Luther not so subtly explained. Mac cocked his head to the side, _still_ not getting it. "Whatever, you'll figure it out." Luther said, turning away from Mac.

"Wait, dad. Where are you going?" Mac asked. Luther kept walking.

"Goodbye, son." he said dryly. Luther faded away, materializing somewhere back in Mexico. Feliz Navidad, Luther. Feliz Navidad.

"Dad! Wait!" Mac screamed, falling to his knees in the snow as he reached out for him. "I love you!" The scene around him drifted away, the snow puffed up into clouds and the night sky became bright blue and blinding. Mac shielded his eyes with his hands as loud trumpets began to play from an unknown direction. Mac could hear the angels singing, and Mac was certain that God was approaching. Then, a figure appeared, high in the clouds. His arms were held out at his sides as he welcomed Mac.

"Hello, Mac." the voice boomed with the power of a thousand suns. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come." He wore long white robes and radiated golden light. The light was far too bright to see God's face, but Mac clasped his hands together in front of his own face and prayed up to him.

"God!" he cried out. "I'm ready, bro! Take me home, Lord!" God descended from the clouds and stepped up to Mac. The lights died down as the Golden God presented himself. Mac threw his hands to his lap and huffed.

"Dennis, what the fuck?" he argued. Future Dennis could only smile. "Where the fuck is my future?"

"But, Mac. Dear, sweet, impressionable Mac. I _am_ your future." the glowing Dennis said.

"What?" Mac shook his head and stood up. "Bullshit."

"Oh, it's true." Dennis purred, taking a step towards Mac, who reached up to grasp his necklace again. Dennis placed both hands on Mac's face, cradling him lovingly. Yeah, this couldn't be the _real_ Dennis, right? "Worship me, Mac." he said, as he pulled Mac closer and roughly kissed him. Mac's arms dropped to his sides, he was so consumed by the holy golden power, he didn't want to fight it. Jesus would be _so pissed_ at him, but Mac quickly forgot all about eternal torture in Hell as Dream Dennis continued the assault against his lips. But then, the beautiful trumpets turned into alarms, loud and blaring in Mac's ears. The bright white lights flashed a deep, dark red. Mac opened his eyes from the kiss and Dennis was gone. In his place was a tall man with red horns and a spiked tail. He grinned with two rows of razor sharp teeth and laughed from deep within his chest. 

"TIME TO WAKE UP, RONALD." Satan said, still laughing. Mac screamed, jolting up in bed, now safely back in his apartment. The sun had come up, shining through his window, but the room was ice cold. He scrambled out of bed and ran into the living room. Dennis must have left the window by the couch open, which explained why the apartment was so cold. He hadn't noticed it when he got home last night. Mac looked around the place, but Dennis was still gone. Mac shook his head, still baffled by his nightmares. He closed the window, went back to his room, got dressed and headed out the door, ready to face the rest of his nightmares at Paddy's. Jesus and the church services were just gonna have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this entire fic is crack right? But Mac's chapter had to be cracky enough to break through the walls of crack. Like enough crack to literally kill Rickety Cricket, y'know? But anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it!


	3. FRANK

Frank snored loudly, accidentally waking himself up. He flopped around on the floor as he tried to sit up, having completely forgotten where he was. He calmed down until he was sitting still on the floor of Paddy's, surrounded by dried yellow paint and the feeling of winter coming from outside. He stood up, scratching his head as he looked around the place. Everyone was gone except for Charlie, who was still fast asleep on the pool table. Frank sleepily walked behind the bar and grabbed a beer, slowly drinking it as he went into the back office. He sure as hell didn't want to walk home now, not with everything frozen over outside, and calling a cab was just a pointless Liberal ripoff. He set his beer on the cluttered desk as he dragged a chair over to the vent. He climbed up and pulled the grate away from the vent, letting it drop noisily to the floor. Frank retrieved his beer and crawled up into the vent where he quickly fell back asleep, squished comfortably into the metal tunnels. After a few minutes, there was a loud rumbling noise, and Frank's eyes popped open like a madman's.

"Earthquake!" Frank hollered out, scrambling and crawling out of the vent, spilling beer in his eyes in the process. He tumbled out of the vent and landed on his face, viciously scrubbing at his eyes back in the office. The rumbling had stopped, the beer bottle had shattered on impact and Frank bolted upright, frantically looking around the room for the source of the rumbles. A man was sitting behind the desk and upon seeing him, Frank whipped out his gun and pointed it at him. "What the fuck are you doin' here, you dirty bastard?!"

"Trust me Frank, I don't want to be here either." Bruce Mathis said, smugly leaning back in the office chair. "I'm your Ghost of Christmas Past, and-"

"You're about t'be a ghost, pal! I will fucking shoot you, ya baaastard." Frank warned again, raising the gun higher. Bruce sighed and stood up, walking around the desk to where Frank stood like a tiny outlaw. 

"Go ahead, see what hap-" Bruce began, but was quickly cut off as a gunshot rang out loudly in the small space of the office. Bruce was blown backwards and tumbled over and behind the desk.

"Gotcha!" Frank howled. There was movement behind the desk as Bruce struggled back onto his feet in a bloody and mangled mess. His entire shoulder had been blown to shit, a huge chunk had been shot out, blood splattered onto the walls like in the movies, in quick little bursts and streams of red. If it had been a shotgun, the result would have been much worse, but Frank's pistol had done plenty of damage, as a bullet does when it hits a very sensitive place as this one did. Bruce's arm hung as his side, the pain too fierce to move it very far. Bruce looked up at Frank, the left side of his face drenched in blood, and shot him a look of pure hatred. "What the shit?" Frank said, looking his gun over. "I was aimin' at your fuckin' head!" Bruce took a long, deep breath and let it out as a sigh.

"Come on, Reynolds." he said dryly, as he snapped his fingers with his usable arm. The bloody office was now gone, replaced with an overcrowded mall, hundreds of people running around the two of them. Frank drew his gun again, in pure shock from the sudden change in scenery. Bruce put his hand onto Frank's and lowered the gun. "Look." Bruce said, pointing to something ahead of them. Frank lowered the gun as the crowd of people parted, making a pathway that made what Bruce was pointing to clear. It was a stage in the middle of the mall's walkways. It was decorated up in reds and greens, giant candy cane cutouts and a big chair, fluffy white material was draped over the floors, acting as snow. Behind the chair was a cardboard cutout of a gingerbread house, with gumdrops lining the white frosting roof. In the chair itself was an old fat man, the mall's top security guard, dressed up like Santa for the special event. On each of Santa's knees were kids. Frank didn't recognize them at first, because he hadn't seen them this little in thirty years. Baby Dennis was on Santa's left knee, nearly bouncing with excitement as he told Santa what he wanted for Christmas. Baby Dee was on his right knee, sitting as still as a baby bird, a pout on her face as she was waiting for her brother to shut the fuck up so she could scream her list at Santa.

"Look at _my_ kids." Bruce said, blood still dripping from his shoulder. Frank, too caught up with what was in front of him, didn't hear what Bruce had said. If he had, Bruce would have two matching shoulders, a bullet hole on each side. But instead, Frank dropped his gun and watched. In that moment a very small part of him was sorry. Sorry for all the fake outs, sorry for being a deadbeat for most of the twin's lives, sorry that he still wasn't a very good dad to them now, even if he wasn't _really_ their dad. Frank even smiled, in a familiar nostalgia that he had nearly forgotten. But then the twins got off of Santa's knees, Dee screeching up a storm because Dennis had hogged all the Santa time and she never got to tell him what _she_ wanted for Christmas. Another figure stepped out and frustratingly grabbed both of their hands, as Dee let out her ear piercing bird sounds. Frank snapped out of his haze and started launching himself at the figure.

"My hoor wife!" Frank screamed at a Barbara who couldn't hear him, as she dragged the kids away from Santa. "That dirty hoor!" Bruce grabbed at Frank's collar with his working arm, but quickly started to drag along behind him. The mall started to disappear, taking Barbara, the kids, and Bruce along with it. "YOU _HOOOOOR_." Frank screamed out, as he suddenly found himself to be in a different place. He was back to where he has woken up in the first place, on the floor of Paddy's, surrounded by all the yellow paint, his gun left behind in the mall chaos.

"What happened here?" a sultry voice asked, coming from somewhere to the left. Frank looked up towards the bar. A beautiful woman was sitting on top of the bar, like she was posing for a sexy calendar. She was wearing a sexy angel Halloween costume, with Styrofoam wings and a halo above her head attached with a wire and a headband. "Looks like Big Bird exploded in here."

"Artemis!?" Frank said, scrambling up from the floor as he clambered over to the bar. Finally, a familiar face that Frank _wanted_ to see.

"Hi, Frank." Artemis, the shameless angel said dramatically. "I'm the Sexy Ghost of Christmas Present." She hopped down from the bar and put her hand on Frank's shoulder.

"Artemis, you're dead." Frank said, shocked.

"No, I'm probably just an acid fueled delusion." Artemis said. "Y'know, the usual."

"But, if you're a ghost, can we still bang?" Frank asked. Artemis shook her head. "There will be _plenty_ of Dumpster Time later, Frankie. But look! Your vision!" she announced, pointing over to the pool table. Charlie was still fast asleep, the eight ball tucked underneath his head.

"Yeah, it's Chawlie. So what?" Frank asked. Artemis sighed.

"Yes, _your son_." Artemis said, trying to make Frank understand.

"Chawlie ain't my kid." Frank laughed. "My kid wouldn't be such a dumbass." Artemis gave him a look, which roughly translated to, _you stupid motherfucker._

"Don't be so sure, Frank." Artemis said. 

"His mother is a _hoor_ , Artemis. A dirty, dirty hoor. Who knows who that kid's dad is."

"But you _do_ know, Frank. In here." Artemis tapped at Frank's heart.

"Naw, not Chawlie." he said, the panic setting in. "The kid's got donkey brains..." Frank's eyes went wide.

"That's right, Frank, _just_ like you." Artemis said with a smile. "Go hug your donkey brained son." Frank dropped to his knees and screamed.

"No! It can't be true!" Frank roared with donkey brained fury. " _No_ _!_ " The lights suddenly flashed off, leaving Frank in pure darkness. A light shined bright up ahead, a tiny little speck at first, then it grew closer, and closer, until the flashlight was aimed right in Frank's eyes. Frank tumbled backwards as a single light flashed on above, a spotlight in the otherwise dark room. Frank looked up at where the flashlight was, and gasped. It was a little boy, curly black hair and tiny glasses. He was frowning, as if disinterested in everything around him. He opened his mouth, and instead of words, there came a single sound.

"Ribbit." he croaked. Frank gasped again in realization.

"Froggy?" Frank asked. The Frog Kid nodded once and ribbited again. Frank scrambled up and stood in front of the boy's flashlight. "Oh! Froggy!" Frank cried, and launched himself at Froggy, wrapping him up in a tight hug. Frank hugged the younger version of himself for a long time, squishing him up in his arms. "I missed you Froggy, I missed you!" Frog Kid ribbited in Frank's arms, and struggled away from him. Froggy turned away and made a single hop forward, pointing down the dark corridor for Frank to follow. Frank followed along after the hopping boy, down the long, dark hallway. There was an object in the distance, and they quickly neared it. Froggy stopped hopping, he turned slowly to Frank and then pointed his light on the object. It was a headstone, standing behind a freshly buried mound of dirt. The headstone read, **HERE LIES FRANK REYNOLDS. HOPELESS BASTARD, DONKEY BRAINED FATHER, SACK OF SHIT. WE'RE GLAD HE'S DEAD.**

"I'm dead?!" Frank screamed. "Froggy, I'm dead? I'm DEAD!"

"Craaaaawk." Froggy croaked, and the flashlight went out. The darkness consumed Frank, and suddenly he was falling, deeper into the cold darkness. He hit ground, and suddenly Frank was awake. _Really_ awake this time. He woke up crammed in the vents, and he started to panic. He crawled out and threw himself to the ground, landing awkwardly with a _THUD_. Frank stood up quickly and ran out of the office. He looked around him. Charlie was gone, and the place was finally empty. The sun was up, he could see its light from the front windows. He remembered his dream then, and that he could still save Christmas, it wasn't too late. Just then, the front door opened, and Frank knew that he still had a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frankie Boy butchers so many words, so it was a complete JOY for me to write him. I love you, Danny. (And Chawlie.)


	4. DENNIS

Dennis woke up to the sound of his phone vibrating on the table in front of him. He sleepily reached out for it and turned the alarm off. He had set his alarm for midnight, and if Dee hadn't come crawling back by then, he was going to leave. Well, now it was midnight and the Bird was nowhere to be found. Dennis hadn't exactly planned on falling asleep in the booth, but here he was, slowly climbing out of it, shoving his phone in his pocket as he headed to the door. He stepped over Frank on the floor, not really bothered to help him up. He started to open the door, but turned his head towards Mac, sprawled over the bar, fast asleep. Dennis should have gone over and woken him up, since they had driven to Paddy's together that morning. The _right thing_ to do would be to go over and wake Mac up so they could go home. And Dennis would have happily done so. If only Mac hadn't been annoying the absolute shit out of Dennis for the past month.

The day after Thanksgiving, Mac had started going _all out_ for Christmas. Decorating the bar, the apartment, even the Range Rover, all in a declaration of love for, you guessed it, Jesus Christ. Christmas lights were strung up everywhere, nativity scenes, elaborate pine trees, the gigantic Jesus on the cross on their balcony, and not to mention the candy canes Dennis kept finding _everywhere._ Especially the ones Mac kept hooking over the rear view mirror in the Rover. It was cute at first, Dennis had to admit. But every single day a new candy cane would show up, more Christmas lights were hung somewhere and if Dennis had to step out on fire escape balcony one more time to see that blood covered Jesus, he was gonna lose it. Besides, Dennis fucking _despised_ candy canes. 

Dennis decided to just take a drive, he'd come back for Mac eventually, but he needed some well deserved space. He walked outside into the bitter cold and climbed into the Range Rover. He looked up at the mirror to see a new candy cane hooked over the plastic that held the mirror up. Dennis growled lowly in frustration as he grabbed the stick of brightly colored sugar and tossed it in the seat behind him. He started up the Rover and drove off. He didn't know where he was going, only that he just needed to get away for a while. After driving around the block a few times, Dennis pulled into the alley behind the bar, cranking the heat up as he shivered from the outside cold. He was still frustrated as fuck with Mac, as usual. But he didn't want to go too far away from him. Mac is basically a child and Dennis Reynolds wouldn't just leave a child stranded at a bar in the gross icy winter. Would he? It was half past midnight when Dennis closed his eyes, only meaning to rest them for a moment. But he soon fell into a deep, warm sleep as the Rover purred.

"Hey." a voice said, coming from the passenger's seat. Dennis blinked his eyes open, glancing over at the seat beside him. He thought it was Mac at first, but then Dennis bolted upright, wide-eyed, as he flung backwards into the driver's side door. "Milk?" the voice offered, holding out his half empty milk glass to Dennis.

"Liam, how the fuck did you get in my car?!" Dennis howled, his hand flying up to make sure the doors were still locked.

"Milk makes strong bones, Dennis." Liam McPoyle deadpanned. Dennis stared at him in blank terror.

"What the fuck does that mean?!" he cried, flailing around in panic. Liam just shrugged and took a drink of his lukewarm milk.

"Whatever you want it to mean." Liam said dryly. "Anyway. I'm a ghost or something, so..." Liam looked deep into Dennis's eyes, snapped his fingers and suddenly they weren't in the car anymore.

They were in a dark room, moonlight pouring through the window. There were two beds, one on each side of the window of the large bedroom. It was messy and cluttered with toys and Dennis almost instantly recognized it. It was the bedroom he shared with Dee when they were kids. When they were small enough to still love each other. Dennis watched as a tiny figure sneaked out of bed, silently creeping over to the doorway. He was nearly in the hallway, but then, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the other bed. Baby Dennis quietly walked over to the bed on the far side of the room and shook at the still sleeping form of his sister. Baby Dee whined softly in her sleep as her little brother shook her shoulder. Dee finally sat up, long blonde hair wild from sleep. She stared at Baby Dennis with tired eyes, but she soon gasped in excitement once she realized why he had woken her up. _Santa was downstairs!_ Baby Dennis had heard him, it was for real this time! Both of the twins rushed to the door and, as quietly as they could manage, made their way out the door, down the hall and downstairs. Present Dennis, ignoring Liam's milky breath protests, ran along after them through the Reynolds house.

"This can't be real." Dennis kept mumbling to himself, as he reached the downstairs living room. There, he saw both of the twins crawling into the stacks of presents under the tree. Santa was nowhere to be seen, but they didn't mind. The fat guy got his cookies, they got their presents. Fair trade. Dennis walked closer, unsure if they could see him or not, and he knelt down by the tree, just watching them. He remembered that Christmas. Santa presents in the morning, mom and Frank's presents later. The only year they didn't get faked out. Dennis didn't know why Frank had a change of heart that year, but he did, and it was the best Christmas ever. He remembered that mom and Frank came downstairs later on, that the rest of the family came over that night. No fighting, no arguing, just a happy holiday. 

"Cute kids." Liam said, standing behind Dennis. "Too bad Dee got ugly." Dennis ignored him, too focused on the happy faces of his sister and his past self.

"How are you doing this?" Dennis asked, looking back at Liam.

"You crashed the car, you're dead as balls right now." Liam said. Before Dennis could protest, Liam let out a howl of inbred laughter. "Just kidding. Drugs probably." Dennis shook his head, turning back to the tree, but the room around him was fading away. Liam suddenly disappeared, leaving only his empty milk glass behind. Dennis stood up as the room changed into something different. He was outside of Paddy's, not long after he had driven off. The snow was pounding down from the sky and the wind was relentless. But Dennis couldn't feel the cold or the wind. As Dennis was trying to figure out how he had gotten so far from the Rover, he heard an animal behind him.

"Meeeeooow." a cat purred. Dennis turned around, looking down to the ground where the cat should have been. Except, it wasn't a real cat. More like a plastic surgery nightmare financed by his alimony payments. Dennis screamed out upon seeing her, she had gotten so much worse. Like if a cat and a sack of balloons had produced a child, and that child had taken a hundred bee stings to the face.

"Hello, Dennis." Maureen smiled, with a mouth full of sharpened cat teeth. Dennis winced and took a step back.

"Jesus Christ, Maureen, what the fuck happened to you?" Dennis whined. Maureen posed like a runway model, though she looked like pure nightmare fuel.

"I have completed my transformation, Dennis. What do you think?" she asked, her voice altered by her dental work.

"I think you're gross as fuck, Maureen." Dennis replied, looking her over in disgust. "Do you have eight boobs?"

"We can talk about that later, Dennis. But now I have to show you something." Maureen placed her clawed paw onto Dennis's shoulder, and led him over to Paddy's front door. Seconds later, Mac came bursting out into the cold, bundled up in his coat, as he walked towards their apartment.

"Woah, Mac?" Dennis said, dumbfounded. Why was this idiot walking out in the cold? "Mac, wait!" Dennis chased after him, leaving the Catastrophe behind. Mac either couldn't hear Dennis, or he was ignoring him.

"Thanks, Dennis." Mac mumbled, as the snow pelted him in the face.

"Mac! Mac, I'm sorry!" Dennis said, running along beside him. "You can have your candy canes! You can have it all, I'm sorry! Don't go." Mac started to disappear, so did the scene around him. Dennis could see Maureen's teeth beside his head, just her teeth, like the Cheshire Cat, as they smiled and then snapped at him. Dennis screamed out and fell backwards into the snow as everything went black.

Dennis awoke to something hitting at his face. He was flat on his back in icy cold snow, and as his eyes opened he gasped.

"Agent Jack Bauer?" Dennis asked hazily, still out of it after his fall. The ragged gray cat simply continued to slap at him, claws unsheathed this time, as he scratched mercilessly at Dennis's face. Dennis sprung up onto his feet, grasping at his clawed up face. Tiny droplets of blood formed along the scratches and dripped lightly down his chiseled cheekbone. The cat screeched wildly and started to take off through the snow, leaving tiny paw prints behind embedded in white. Everything around Dennis was dark, yet still light enough so that he could make out the path ahead of him. Dennis followed the garbage animal along the path. Pieces of fur along his back were singed, probably from various explosions that he had survived. The cat hissed every so often, usually at nothing, but sometimes when Dennis would get too close. The Agent finally stopped and sat down in the snow, prompting Dennis to stand behind him. He licked at his cold paws, sneezed up some blood, and covered it over with snow. Jack Bauer grumbled, motioning his head towards something in front of them. Dennis looked up and flinched back in surprise.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW, DENNIS?" Agent Jack Bauer bellowed, deep and angry. Dennis's heart lurched as he jumped even further back.

"I need to stay away from the crack." Dennis whispered to himself, his hand over his thumping heart. His eyes glanced back up at what was in front of him. He didn't want to see it, it was wrong. _Very_ wrong. He blinked hard, hoping that the scene in front of his eyes would dissolve like the others had. Dennis could not answer Agent Bauer's question. For Dennis Reynolds did _not_ understand. He felt a ping of unknown fear in his chest, and if that wasn't wrong, then what was? Dennis was never scared, maybe scared of Maureen's eight cat boobs, sure. But _this_ was different. Very different.

He was back in his apartment, at some point in the near future. It was dark, which was unusual if both he and Mac were home. Usually the TV would be blaring out Predator or Terminator or some other film Mac liked with tons of ripped dudes. But the lights and TV were off. The curtains were pulled open, letting the view of falling snow hitting the balcony in the nighttime show. On the couch was a slightly older Dennis, leaned back comfortably against the cushions. His arms were spread out along the top of the couch, his head leaned back, stretching out his neck. With his back resting against Dennis's side, Mac slept soundlessly in the crook under Dennis's outstretched arm, his legs over the couch's armrest. Mac snored softly and something in Present Dennis's heart broke. He didn't even know he still had a heart, he assumed it had died a long time ago from parental negligence and too much crack rock. 

"You must find him." Agent Jack Bauer said, only this time, the _real_ Agent Jack Bauer stood in the cat's place. Dennis's eyes widened at the sight of him, the tall beautiful blond bastard was glorious.

"Find who, Agent Jack Bauer?" Dennis asked, like a small child in awe of Santa Claus.

"Your gay best friend, Dennis. Your _really_ gay best friend." Agent Bauer confirmed. Dennis nodded slowly to himself, finally coming to the realization of what he was supposed to do. He looked up at the room around him, starting to slowly fade away. Agent Jack Bauer faded along with it, in all his magnificent glory. The next thing Dennis knew, he was springing back to life in the Rover, where he had fallen asleep in the first place.

"Mac..." Dennis whispered, as he came to the revelation of what he had to do. He put the car into drive and circled around the building again, pulling up into the parking space in front of Paddy's. Dennis left the Rover running as he rushed out, leaving the door open as he wrapped his arms around himself, to protect himself from the cold. Dennis went inside the bar, only to find it empty, except for Charlie, still asleep on the pool table. Dennis ran back outside into the freezing wasteland. "MAC! MAC?" he cried out desperately. He walked over to the corner, trekking through the cold snow on the sidewalks. He looked up and down the streets, but was unable to find his friend. Reluctantly, Dennis went back to the Range Rover and drove off. He drove until he reached their apartment.

Dennis tiredly climbed up to their place and quietly went inside, tossing his phone on the table as he entered. Mac's door was closed and the entire apartment was dark. He quietly went up to the door, the only remaining barrier between himself and a sleeping Mac. Dennis's hand went up to the knob, but he just couldn't do it. He wanted so badly to talk to him, to sort this whole thing out, to confront this awful nightmare he had just faced. But he couldn't. Dennis dropped his hand and walked over to the window. He watched as the snow fell over Philly, the sun was just starting to rise. Dennis opened the window and stepped out onto the fire escape balcony. He leaned his back against the wall and sighed in defeated frustration, his hand rubbing over his eyes. It was cold, and flakes of white were landing in his hair and on his shoulders, but Dennis didn't care. He was used to the cold, his entire sense of being was cold. He looked up at the giant Jesus beside him on the balcony, grotesquely nailed to the giant cross, covered in buckets of blood.

"Merry goddamn Christmas, pal." Dennis mumbled to the holly jolly atrocity. Just as his eyes were fluttering closed and the sun was bright overhead, Dennis heard a crash from behind him. He looked up and back to see that the window had been slammed shut, the curtains drawn. Dennis scrambled up to protest, but whoever had closed the window couldn't hear him. "God. Damn it. Mac." Dennis grumbled, as he fumbled with the locked window. By then, Mac was long gone, heading back to the bar, and Dennis was royally fucked. He looked behind him at the ice cold metal ladder that could take him to the ground. He sighed, dropping his arms to his sides, as he slowly walked over to the ladder. Mac was gonna fucking get it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Dee Reynolds is a golden ray of pure sunshine straight from the pits of hell and that is beautiful, shame on you Liam.
> 
> Anyway, Dennis is a Bastard Man, but he's a Bastard Man with a surprisingly soft heart and he's precious, we must protect him. ProtectBastardManDennis2k17
> 
> This took a little longer, since I had to travel for Christmas, but I hope it was worth the wait!


End file.
